


Last Night's Clothes and Tomorrow's Dreams

by celeste9



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars: Before the Awakening - Greg Rucka
Genre: Action/Adventure, Backstory, Break Up, Canon-Typical Violence, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-02 04:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12719442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: When Poe is promoted to commander of Rapier Squadron, he and Muran agree to a mutual, undramatic end to their relationship. Rapier Squadron is everything Poe ever wanted. But when a routine mission doesn't go exactly according to plan, Poe is forced to realize that his feelings for Muran might have run deeper than he thought.





	Last Night's Clothes and Tomorrow's Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perlaret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perlaret/gifts).



> This is set towards the end of the Leia novel 'Bloodline', roughly six years pre-TFA. Many thanks to my RL friend for the read-through. Title from Fall Out Boy. Also fyi, I was picturing Rahul Kohli as Muran when I wrote it, for reference.

Leia Organa’s image was spread across every channel of the holonews. There was a rising tide of anger swelling in Poe’s insides but he couldn’t make himself stop looking. He paced the room, talking over the ridiculous, cruel things being said.

“This is bantha shit!” he exclaimed. “It’s like they’ve all forgotten what she’s done for us! Who the fuck cares who donated their sperm to her? Kriff, if I got my hands on that piece of shit senator, I would--”

“That’s why you’re not leaving this room,” Muran said, cross-legged on their bed, his back against the wall.

Poe looked to him. “Not even to blow off some steam? I feel like if I got to hit someone in the face, preferably one of the assholes who actually believe this druk, it would make me feel better.”

“Until the Navy finds out you’re getting in barfights.”

“Okay, point conceded.” Poe sank down onto the edge of the bed. He rubbed his temples. The reflection of the holonews cast a shimmering glow against the wall. “It just makes me sick, how quickly everyone’s turned on her.”

“I know.” Muran scooted forward, resting his palm high up on Poe’s back. “It’ll probably blow over just as quickly.”

“She’ll never be First Senator. They’ll drum her out of the Senate.”

“There’s not really anything you can do about that, is there? There’s no point making yourself sick over it.”

“I’m not sure I like what our future looks like, without Leia fighting for us.”

“You assume she’s going to stop.”

Poe knew Muran had a point. Leia wouldn’t stop. It was only that her means to help them, to mold the New Republic, was going to drastically change. How many would want to listen to the daughter of Darth Vader?

Muran kissed the back of Poe’s shoulder. “You want a distraction?”

The holonews was a faint hum of background noise. “You offering?”

“Seems only fair, since I’m stopping you from getting drunk and brawling.” Muran slid around until he was half-perched in Poe’s lap.

“Mm, you’re right,” Poe agreed, baring his neck as he slid his hands up Muran’s sides. “As long as you don’t mind that I’ll be thinking about Leia Organa when I come.”

Muran chuckled low and bit down on Poe’s neck, his beard scratchy against Poe’s skin.

It was pretty good, as far as distractions went.

-

Poe stood in front of Admiral Sundar’s desk, hands behind his back, and tried not to gape stupidly as he listened to the words being directed at him.

“There is need for a squadron operating out of the new base on Mirrin Prime. We’d like you to be in command of it.”

“Sir, I’m honored.”

“Of course, you’ll be promoted to commander. It’s been a long time coming, in my opinion.”

Poe felt a bit dumb, like his tongue was stuck in his throat as he tried to figure out what to say. “Thank you, sir. I’m honored,” he settled on, like a repeating loop.

“We’ve already chosen your team. Lieutenants Karé Kun, Iolo Arana, and Muran. I believe you are familiar.”

The admiral’s gaze was shrewd as he locked eyes with Poe.

Poe swallowed. “I am. They’re fine pilots.”

“A suggestion, Major. Relationships within the chain of command can be… difficult. Too many emotions involved, too easy to base decisions on sentiment and favoritism.”

“I understand, sir.” The words felt thick and sticky in Poe’s throat.

“If you would like to discuss the possibility of a transfer in regards to any of your new squadron members, or any related matter, now would be the time to mention it.”

A whirlwind of thoughts was going through Poe’s head and all he could make himself say was, “No, sir. I don’t think that will be necessary.”

The admiral nodded sharply. “Dismissed then, Major Dameron.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Poe said, saluting.

He walked out of the office, feeling as though he might be sick.

Admiral Sundar had all but told Poe he needed to end his relationship with Muran because of his promotion and Poe had just… agreed. Like Muran was nothing.

It wasn’t like it was serious. Right? They were just having fun. Poe cared about him, of course, but… Commander of his own squadron. That was something. His dad would be so proud when Poe told him, and…

Muran would understand. Either way it wouldn’t have worked. Even if Muran was replaced with another pilot, where would that leave them? Muran on Hosnian Prime, and Poe on Mirrin Prime. It was casual. Wasn’t it?

Muran would be happy for him. And the rest… They would talk about.

-

Poe was certain there were ideal ways to have this conversation. He had run through about fifty options in his head before he ended up in the same room as Muran that evening.

And yet somehow, as Muran started, “Did you eat? Because--” all Poe could blurt out was, “I’m getting promoted.”

The rest of Muran’s sentence trailed off. He stared at Poe for a few long seconds before he smiled. “Seriously? Poe, that’s great!”

“You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m being sent to Mirrin Prime. They’re giving me my own squadron.” Poe swallowed. “Karé, Iolo, and you.”

Muran’s smile faded. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“So… So I guess I’ll be seeing you on Mirrin Prime, Commander.”

Poe drew his eyebrows together. “What?”

Muran stepped closer, reaching his hand out for a moment before he let it fall back to his side, short of touching Poe. “We had fun, yeah? But you deserve this, Poe, and I’m not going to be the one who holds you back. It will be an honor to serve under you.” His skin flushed. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Poe said, unable to make the joke nine times out of ten he would’ve made. “Yeah, I do.”

-

As he lay in bed that night, alone, Poe couldn’t stop thinking about Muran.

Muran had made it easy. He had accepted everything without Poe even needing to explain it, without them needing to talk. He should be grateful. No fuss, no drama, no hurt feelings.

Honestly, it was a big part of why his relationship with Muran had always worked. He was low-key and subdued, patient and thoughtful and easy-going.

It was basically confirmation of what Poe had told himself. They cared about each other but they weren’t serious. Muran understood what this meant to Poe, and now Poe got to have him on his team. Muran was a damn good pilot. Poe couldn’t ask for anyone better.

But Poe couldn’t stop feeling like maybe he was an asshole. He had chosen rank over Muran and Muran hadn’t even flinched. Just accepted it. And maybe that was on Poe. Maybe he had made Muran feel like it was inevitable, that he would never matter enough.

But then, wasn’t that the point? That they weren’t actually in love? So it was fine. Poe would’ve stepped back if Muran needed him to, right? It was fine. Equal terms.

Except maybe Poe _could’ve_ loved him, if he’d tried.

Poe stuffed his pillow over his face and sighed. What a kriffing useless train of thought, and he was never going to get any sleep.

-

The ceremony was a small affair, Poe getting his new rank badge pinned to his uniform in front of available personnel. His dress uniform was itchy and hot and Poe wished his father could have been there.

(What he truly wished was that his mother could be there, but no one could have made that happen.)

Afterwards he stood around getting congratulated a lot by people more important than he was, as well as by some of his friends. Snap Wexley called him a hotshot with this strangely regretful glimmer in his eyes that Poe couldn’t even begin to interpret.

“Should’ve figured the Navy’d have you well on the road to success by now,” he said, and Poe wondered what else Snap expected him to do.

He got approached by Karé and Iolo as well, who refreshingly seemed disinclined to treat him any differently than they had before, aside from using his new title.

“It’ll be an honor reporting for duty, sir,” Karé said as she made way for the next well-wishers, a huge smirk on her face that made Poe long to flip her off but this wasn’t exactly the venue for that.

Which, of course, Karé knew: that was the point.

Colonel Antilles was shaking Poe’s hand, a twinkle in his eye as he joked about Poe’s cocky confidence back at the Academy, and Poe smiled and laughed like he was meant to. His heart wasn’t really in it, though, and when his eyes met Muran’s across the room, Poe wanted nothing more than to kiss his boyfriend.

But Muran wasn’t his boyfriend anymore and it was against regulations, so he just kept smiling and shaking hands.

If a while later Muran came over to him and said quietly, “Your mom would be so proud,” well.

Poe could pretend he didn’t have to swallow past the lump in his throat.

-

Packing up his shit and getting on the transport to Mirrin Prime with Karé, Iolo, and Muran felt strangely anti-climactic. Poe thought he should feel better, more excited, more… something.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t proud. He was. He had spoken to his dad and got to see his father’s huge smile, see him wipe his eyes to try to hide that he’d teared up, and that was… Well, that was worth a hell of a lot. Poe was proud and nervous and all the things he thought he probably should be.

But it felt dulled, somehow, and he didn’t know why.

Their arrival was taken up mostly by meetings and tours, and it was late by the time Poe got to sit down in his new, private room. It was small, and the mattress was too firm, and Poe was trying not to remember how much he disliked sleeping by himself. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it for most of his life; he just… liked the feeling of a warm body crammed in next to him.

This was fine, though, Poe told himself as he went to sleep in his uncomfortable bed, BB-8 charging in the corner. He was going to be the best damn commander Rapier Squadron had ever had.

(So, okay, the bar was low, considering Rapier Squadron had never _had_ a commander before because it hadn’t existed. Still.)

In the morning he took BB-8 to the hangar to look over the X-wing he had been assigned, a new T-85. She was a beauty, honestly, and Poe was looking forward to a test flight.

“What do you think, Beebee?” Poe said, circling around the ship, dragging his fingertips over the metal of the wing. “She gonna pass muster?”

_[I must be hooked into the ship’s systems to determine this, Partner-Poe!]_

Poe smiled absently. “Yeah, I know, pal, I’m just thinking out loud, really.”

_[You seem unhappy.]_

No longer surprised when the droid made judgments about Poe’s emotional state, Poe only said, “I’m not unhappy. Just… I don’t know. I thought it would be different. Thought I’d feel different.”

_[Friend-Muran has not come to your room in many days.]_

Poe fought the impulse to blush. “Muran and I aren’t like that anymore, buddy.”

BB-8’s trilled response sounded concerned. _[But he made you happy.]_

“Yeah, well. Regulations and things. It’s better if he’s just my pilot, and that’s all.”

_[Why?]_

“Because it’s too complicated otherwise.”

_[But if you are happy together then--]_

“Just leave it, Beebee,” Poe interrupted, feeling ashamed at the way BB-8 rolled back from him, domed head swiveling. “I’m sorry, I’m… It wasn’t anything serious, we were only… It’ll be better if we’re only friends. I know you don’t understand but trust me. It’s for the best.”

BB-8 beeped low, but Poe could still hear him. _[If you are unhappy then it is not for the best.]_

Poe ignored him in favor of a thorough exploration of his new ship.

-

All things considered, Poe felt the transition to a new base, with a new team and new responsibilities, went fairly smoothly. It wasn’t the first time Poe had led a squadron but it felt different, paired with his promotion. Rapier Squadron felt like it was _his_ in a way his previous assignments hadn’t.

The base was smaller than that on Hosnian Prime, which he had expected, but that made it all feel a bit different, too. He was relied on here more than on Hosnian Prime simply because there weren’t as many other pilots and teams. He outranked most everyone.

And his squad, well… They were something, anyway.

“That isn’t true,” Karé said, the fact that she was likely rolling her eyes coming through almost audibly over the comm.

“I’m telling you, it is,” Iolo insisted. “My uncle’s a journalist, he was there.”

“And clearly on something, and whatever it was, did he share it?”

“Poe, back me up here. Your parents were in the Rebellion, right? Maybe they heard something.”

“Guys, I get that this patrol is boring and lame,” Poe said, “but this is the most ridiculous argument I’ve ever heard. I think you’ve put Muran to sleep in his cockpit.”

“Not yet,” Muran said, “but I’m getting there.”

“Anyway, Iolo, my parents never met Captain Andor and I want to know how being a journalist gives your uncle any credibility whatsoever on this. Did he live in Jabba’s Palace? Was he based on Yavin? Huh?”

“My uncle personally witnessed Captain Andor saying--”

“Kriffing hell!” Karé exclaimed. “I get having kinks but that’s just wrong! Cassian Andor was a hero, you can’t go around spreading shit about him!”

“You’re just biased because of your crush,” Iolo said, smugness creeping into his tone. “Maybe he was into big slimy aliens, you don’t know. Don’t be so narrow-minded.”

Poe could feel Karé’s outrage seeping in through the metal of his X-wing. “Seriously, guys, this argument is so dumb. I’m calling it, and the patrol. Status report.”

“Rapier Two, all good, except for how I’m gonna smack someone when we’re on the ground.”

“Rapier Three, objecting to Rapier Two’s violent tendencies. Cassian Andor had a thing for Jabba the Hutt, it’s a fact, not my fault if she can’t accept the facts.”

“Fuck you, Rapier Three.”

“Beebee, wipe that from the log,” Poe said with a sigh.

“Rapier Four,” came Muran’s steady voice, utterly ignoring the bickering. “Ready for instruction.”

Poe carefully squashed the feeling of warmth that spread through his gut. “Inputting coordinates to your nav systems. Punch it, guys.”

And that was essentially how it went. Karé and Iolo being cheerfully irreverent but doing what they were told, and Muran quietly following Poe’s lead. They worked well together, and Poe enjoyed the camaraderie, though the missions were routine.

It wasn’t a bad set-up. Poe figured he was… content. Things could be better but they could be a hell of a lot worse, so it was pretty okay. He was commander of Rapier Squadron. He had earned this.

And if BB-8 continued to pester him about his lack of a love life and about being unhappy, well, BB-8 didn’t really get human interaction anyway.

-

“Dameron, have a seat,” Major Deso said as Poe stepped into his office. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Another patrol?” Poe asked, hoping he didn’t sound quite as unenthused as he felt.

It wasn’t that he _wanted_ trouble, but honestly, he was bored.

“Not exactly. Smuggling ring, we think they’ve set up on Aurelia.”

“Aurelia?”

“It’s in the Western Reaches. Unpleasant place, really, bad weather, little sunlight. The whole thing is veiled with thick cloud cover. The nature of the planet makes it difficult to scan, which makes it a prime location for anyone wishing to remain hidden. We’d like you and Lieutenant Muran to run recon on the ground and report back to us with what you find.”

Poe nodded. “Sounds easy enough.”

“Should be. Under no circumstances are you to make contact; this is a fact-finding mission only.”

“Understood.”

“The atmospheric interference means you’ll be out of contact for as long as you remain on the planet surface.”

Poe understood Major Deso’s meaning. No assistance. They would be on their own.

Just Poe and Muran. Alone. Together. Lucky they were professionals. “When would you like us to leave?”

-

Major Deso hadn’t been kidding. Aurelia was a beautiful planet from afar, on the approach when you could appreciate the swirling mass of clouds. Once you got close, though, it was an unpleasant shithole. The landing was rough and Poe was almost grateful there was no one but Muran there to see.

Not that Muran’s own landing seemed any better.

Given the lack of intel, they had made their best guess as to where it would be safe to leave their ships, hopefully in a spot where they wouldn’t be found but not so far away from the smugglers’ base of operations that they would be totally cut off. The air was chilly and Poe tugged the collar of his jacket closed.

“Let’s start walking, I guess,” he said, and Muran fell into step beside him.

He fiddled with the tracking device that was supposed to pick up on activity in the area, communication signals and the like. The idea was that it would point them towards the exact location of a base, if indeed there was one to be found. Given that they were going into this partially blind, it was their best hope of not getting caught unawares.

They were both dressed inconspicuously, with nothing that would identify them as part of the NRDF. A blaster was fit snugly into a holster on Poe’s thigh, in case their ‘do not engage’ plan backfired.

The light level was low, given the way the clouds blocked the sun, which created an air of grimness. The plant life was minimal, just some hardy shrubs and a few withered-looking trees growing from the gravelly surface. The ground was hilly and uneven and Poe heard little sound, no birds, the occasional tumble of a rock sliding down, disturbed by the wind or their footsteps.

It didn’t take long before the device pinged, the screen showing heavy traffic nearby. Poe redirected their course slightly and they walked for maybe twenty minutes before hearing the telltale noise of a ship overhead, gliding through atmosphere on course to land. Poe dragged Muran with him to duck behind a rocky outcrop until the ship was away from them, as a precaution.

“There’s something on this planet, anyway,” Poe said, glancing around before resuming their trek.

“Legality to be determined,” Muran said, and Poe smiled at him.

The signal grew stronger and in the distance Poe could make out what was clearly a base of some sort, a grouping of buildings and what looked like a hangar. “Here,” he said to Muran, leading him to a hill they could scale, hopefully giving them a good sightline but keeping them far from notice.

They lay on their bellies at the top, peering through quadnocs. “Not your ordinary settlers,” Muran said, and Poe snorted.

“Not exactly, no.”

Unless ordinary settlers went around heavily armed on a planet that appeared to hold very little threat. They were clearly transporting something, though Poe couldn’t yet make out what the array of boxes being loaded in and out of freighters contained. He made a mental tally of how many beings he saw, the sort of weaponry they carried, and of the quantity of cargo being moved.

“We’ve got a good vantage point here,” he said to Muran. “Let’s see what we can see, and when it’s dark we’ll head back to the ships. We’ll be back on Mirrin Prime by tomorrow, right on schedule.”

“Agreed,” Muran said, and they settled in.

-

“I want to get a better look at the hangar,” Poe said later. “See what kinds of ships they’ve got control of.”

“That’s risky,” Muran said, looking sideways at him. “I think we’ve got enough to go off from here.”

“I can do it,” Poe said, starting to slide back down the side of the hill. “It’ll only take me a minute. Wait here for me.”

“For the record, Commander,” Muran said, emphasizing the title, “I think this is a bad idea.”

“Noted, Lieutenant!”

Poe benefited from the rocky landscape, which gave him ample cover as he crept closer. He waited for a pair of Rodians to pass before dashing to the side of the hangar and sneaking in through the front.

It was bad luck, really, that made the large, bearded man look up just as Poe darted for the corner.

“Hey!”

“Blast,” Poe said, and tried running back out the way he had come in.

He didn’t make it far, getting tackled and thrown to his knees. The large man walked over and jerked his head, prompting the man who had caught him to search him and remove his blaster. He found the tracking device, too, but it was a common enough piece of tech that it couldn’t necessarily link Poe to the New Republic.

“Find what you were looking for?” the big guy asked in a gravelly voice. His eyes were furious and he looked like he’d enjoy punching Poe in the nose, so Poe inwardly dubbed him ‘angry guy’.

Poe could talk his way out of this. It was fine. They didn’t have Muran, which was the important thing, and he could talk his way out of anything. “Honestly I was hoping I could borrow a ship. Crashed mine. Don’t particularly want to hang out on this planet and I can’t get a signal out.”

“That’s your story?”

“Is it still a story if it’s true?”

“Tell me who sent you. Ducain? Kanjiklub?”

“I mean, I can make something up if you like, but--”

Angry guy swung the butt of his blaster against Poe’s face, knocking his head sideways. Poe winced and spat out a mouthful of blood. “I won’t be speaking highly of your hospitality, that’s for sure.”

A humanoid woman standing behind angry guy went down with a blaster bolt through her chest. Poe couldn’t stop his reflexive look towards the rocks where he had left Muran, inwardly cursing. The idiot was going to get himself caught, all for nothing.

Angry guy was shouting and pointing towards the rocks, but then he swiftly pushed his men out of the way to stand behind Poe. Poe felt the nose of a blaster press against the back of his skull.

“Put the blaster down and come out, unless you want to see your friend’s brains splattered over the dirt,” angry guy shouted.

Poe doubted Muran could hear him from this distance but he figured it didn’t matter; the gesture spoke for itself. It took only seconds for the small figure of Muran to appear, hands up. Poe’s heart sank. _Damn it, Muran._

Angry guy directed two of his remaining men to retrieve Muran. They marched him over before shoving him to the dirt beside Poe.

“That was stupid,” Poe muttered to Muran.

“So was what you did.”

“I assume this is the co-pilot you forgot to tell us about, who crashed with you?” angry guy said.

“Yeah, sorry. Must’ve slipped my mind.” Poe attempted his most dazzling, innocuous smile, aimed to charm.

Angry guy was unimpressed. “What else did you forget to tell us? Maybe who sent you?”

“I told you, no one.”

Angry guy considered them for a while, as if working through his options. Eventually he said, “If no one sent you then I guess no one’s going to retrieve you.”

Poe was silent.

“Lock them in the basement,” angry guy commanded, and Poe and Muran were hauled roughly to their feet and shoved along towards the largest building.

They were taken below ground and thrown unceremoniously into a cell, Poe stumbling and landing painfully on his knees. They weren’t even given an audience or anything, just left there.

Muran crouched beside Poe, fingertips dancing lightly over his swelling cheek and jaw. “You can never keep your mouth shut.”

“Doubt it would have helped. That guy hated me.”

“Because you were sassy with him. I could tell just watching you.”

“The sass is natural, I can’t help it.”

Poe got to his feet to investigate their surroundings. It looked like how Poe had always pictured the dungeons in his mother’s bedtime stories, dark and dank, no windows, bars, a simple locking mechanism.

A simple locking mechanism that Poe could sort of reach, if he wedged himself just the right away.

“Beebee would make quick work of this,” Poe said as he poked through the bars at the lock. He wished he could actually see what he was doing, or that he had his tools.

“I sincerely doubt that they would have locked us up with your droid,” Muran pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s fair. He’s resourceful though; I’m sure he could’ve helped us.” Poe cursed as his finger slipped, scraping against a sharp edge. He sucked it into his mouth, wincing.

“Careful,” Muran admonished. “It’s late, Poe, and you’re tired. Maybe we should call it a night.”

“And spend the whole night in here? Waiting for whatever the hell they’ve got planned?”

“It’s unlikely they’ll kill us, if they haven’t done so already. We’ll be better focused in the morning, and we can get a firmer idea of what the routine is around here.”

It was decent advice and Poe could see the logic in it. It galled him, though, to admit defeat, even temporarily. “Someone should stay awake? Just in case?”

“If you like, Commander.”

Poe slid back on the floor until he was seated beside Muran, back up against the grimy wall that he was trying not to think about too much. “But I guess it’s pointless. I mean, we’ve already been caught. Not like they can sneak up on us anymore.”

Muran made a small noise of agreement.

“I’m gonna get us out of this.”

“We’ll come up with something, Poe.”

It was important, though, to Poe, that Muran understood that Poe would fix this. They were a team, sure, but it was different now. Poe felt this immense sense of responsibility for Muran, for all of his team. He was Rapier Leader, and it was his responsibility to make sure his team was okay.

He had to do this.

The cell was chilled and Poe thought he probably shouldn’t but he couldn’t help himself; he scooted over until his arm was pressed up against Muran’s. He thought maybe he should say something to justify it, some remark on sharing body heat, but the words stuck in his throat and Muran just let him stay there, like he used to, when they were more than this.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

-

Poe felt stiff and uncomfortable when he awoke, folded over on his side on the cold, hard floor of the cell. His head at least was pillowed on something with slightly more give, and his nostrils were filled with the familiar, comforting scent of Muran.

That was Muran’s hand on his head, too, resting lightly, stroking gently over his hair. Poe knew, even through his faintly sleep-addled brain, that this wasn’t right, that they shouldn’t be like this, sharing this, that Muran wasn’t his anymore, but he was finding it difficult to care.

Kriff but he missed Muran.

Eventually he made himself pull away, sitting up with his back against the wall. He stretched the kinks out of his muscles while Muran looked at him like he used to, soft and fond, and said, “Sleep okay?”

“For a night in captivity, sure. Did you sleep at all?”

“A little.”

“Think we’ll find out what they’re gonna do with us?”

“I tend to think they’re planning on forgetting about us.”

Poe frowned. “That’s depressing. Damn, Muran, why you always gotta kill the mood?”

Muran’s mouth twitched. “I’m just tempering your cheerful optimism.”

“Yeah, okay.” Poe stood up, circling the cell and making a more thorough inspection than his cursory once-over from the previous night. “But I meant it. I am going to fix this.”

“I know.”

Poe discovered no weaknesses or vulnerabilities in the surrounding walls or the bars of the door. He could make out only the faintest of sounds coming from above them, a nondescript bustle of noise as the smugglers went about their day. Maybe Muran was right, because no one came to see them; no one brought them food or water and no guards came to watch them.

Poe settled back by the door, reaching through to poke at the lock again. The front popped off easier than it had last night, giving him access to the wiring. He was certain he could rewire it, if he only had enough time.

Maybe he would have nothing but time.

“How good a look did you get when they brought us in?” he asked Muran.

“Decent. They weren’t exactly trying to be secretive.”

“Good. Between our two sets of eyes I’m sure we can make it back outside. We’ll need to avoid the entrance they led us through, too busy.”

“I agree. But once we’re on the main level there’s sure to be a back way in.”

“Or out, as the case may be.” Still fiddling with the lock, Poe went on, “We should go at night, when they’re less aware. I’m thinking if they actually are planning to just leave us here, we can sneak up to get an idea of where any guards are posted, and it’s likely they won’t even notice. We’ll separate, have a look around, and meet back down here.”

Muran’s eyebrows were drawing together. “And wait a whole extra day?”

Poe shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t wedged between the bars. “Nah, I’m thinking we’ll take an hour or so for recon-- which should give us a better look at their operation, anyway, to report back to command-- and then we’ll make our escape later in the night. Provided nothing happens.”

“That’s a big if.”

“It’s always gonna be, pal. But we’ve got to try somehow, right? Unless you’re keen on starving to death in here.”

“Not particularly,” Muran admitted. “It’s not much of a plan.”

Sparks shot out from the wires Poe was rearranging. He tossed a grin back over his shoulder at Muran. “That’s just how I roll.”

Muran rolled his eyes.

-

Once Poe got the door to open, they covered the lock back up and put the door in place on its hinges just in case anyone ever did come to check on them. They used their internal chronos paired with the decrease of light and noise above them to estimate nighttime, then waited a bit longer to be safe.

“Stay hidden,” Poe said as they crept out. “We’re just looking. Meet back here in an hour.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, flyboy,” Muran said, and Poe faked offense. As if he would ever. He didn’t have a reckless bone in his body.

They parted ways at the top of the stairs. Poe was hoping he might find a couple of good blasters to liberate; he would feel a lot better if they were armed for their escape.

It went just as Poe hoped. The corridors were quiet and largely deserted; as Poe passed by a few rooms he could hear noise inside, voices and movement, and he hurried past quicker, ducking around corners. His path was a familiar one, as he traced his way towards the entrance they had come in through the previous day.

That was where he encountered his first bit of trouble; Poe could see the guards outside. Luckily for him, no one was expecting a problem to come from inside the base so he was able to sneak through unnoticed.

He tried a few doors as he went, hoping to find those blasters, but most were locked or else radiated too much noise for him to risk. Finally he found what seemed to be a storage room, unguarded, with what was obviously the blasters they’d taken from Poe and Muran left in a pile on the floor.

“I’ll take it,” Poe murmured to himself, slipping one into his holster. The familiar weight improved his mood immediately. He nosed through the other contents of the room but didn’t find anything else of use, so he moved on.

Carefully checking the hall before he went back out, Poe resumed his trek. He noted a couple of other locations to avoid, places they could go around in order to more easily stay out of sight. He found a door that looked like it would lead to the hangar but after a few minutes of observation judged that further inspection would probably fall under Muran’s definition of doing something stupid.

He met Muran back outside their cell and passed off the other blaster.

“I found the back door,” Muran said, “and their main warehouse.”

Poe arched an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Couldn’t get too close a look, too many guards, but I saw enough.”

“Okay. Okay, good. We’ll have lots to share with command. But I say we stick to the plan, leave now while it’s dark, and head back to the landing sight.”

“Poe, what happens if they found our ships?”

“I guess we’ll be stealing one of theirs.”

“You say that like it’s easy.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s easy; it’s that or get stuck here. I know what I’d pick.”

Muran nodded to show his agreement and touched Poe’s shoulder briefly. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah, I’ve had enough of this pit.” Poe moved carefully back up the stairs, Muran at his shoulder, his heartbeat quickening just faintly. They were so close to being free.

For a while it went exactly according to Poe’s admittedly loose plan. They snuck through the base unnoticed, creeping around corners and staying in the shadows, making it to the back way out. They watched the path the guards took so they could time their move outside, and Poe honestly thought they had made it.

They quickened their pace once they were on the grounds, keeping lower to the ground and watching for guards or anyone else who might be out at night. At first Poe tried to ignore the warning bell, telling himself it couldn’t be for them, surely it was something else, but honestly, his luck wasn’t that good.

“Kriff,” he said, and he and Muran abandoned all pretense of remaining hidden.

Too late for that.

They flat out ran, hearing voices shouting. “Clearly it was going too well,” Poe said, just as the unmistakable sound of blaster fire rang out from behind them.

“Clearly.”

“We need to try to lose them. Up in the rocks, maybe?” Poe pointed to a hilly area near where they had first been captured.

“Yeah, boss,” Muran said, and followed where Poe led.

Dodging blaster fire, they scrambled to find cover, firing back over their shoulders a few times themselves. Once they’d made it up they risked a better look, seeing the torchlights of their pursuers.

“We’d better keep moving,” Poe said. “Don’t fire unless you have to; maybe we can knock them off our trail.”

Farther in, Muran almost fell into a slip in the rocks, what looked like the opening to a cave. “Maybe….?” he said, and Poe nodded.

Maybe they could hide out in here for a while, shake the smugglers off, and recoup in the morning.

Poe pushed Muran through and went after him. It was so small they were nearly pressed together and Poe stayed just inside the slim entryway where they had come in, hand on his blaster as he watched and listened.

The smugglers came near but kept going; they had missed it. Poe felt like he could breathe a little easier.

Given the darkness and their unfamiliarity with the terrain, Poe felt it was best they hid for the rest of the night rather than risk bumping into their pursuers trying to go around. Trying to sleep would be pointless but at least it was a bit of respite.

He was weirdly conscious of Muran beside him, close enough to hold. He wondered if Muran would mind if Poe did; maybe he could pass it off as a need for touch and solidarity in their fraught circumstances. He was fairly certain it would actually only come off as needy, though, and he didn’t dare. Instead he kept quiet and still, focusing on the world outside their little cave. He focused on his breathing, keeping it low and even.

Poe wasn’t sure how long it was before he heard shouting again, the smugglers returning to look. The sky was beginning to lighten; the cloud systems prevented a true sunrise but the darkness was starting to lift. Poe waited until it was quiet again, and then waited longer.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Okay, let’s make a run for it.”

They were halfway to their ships before the smugglers caught up to them.

“Kriffing hell,” Poe muttered. “They were happy enough to let us rot in the basement, but now they can’t bear to let us go?”

“Maybe the big guy fell for your charm,” Muran suggested, and Poe lamented the fact he couldn’t smack him.

He saw the Rodian with only a split-second to react; long enough to shove Muran behind him but not long enough to aim his blaster.

The shot hit him in the shoulder and he hissed in pain, only half-noticing Muran taking the Rodian down.

“Poe,” Muran said, fear in his voice. “Poe, are you--”

“Fine,” Poe said, holding his arm stiffly. That had fucking _hurt_ but he couldn’t think about it now. “Fine, come on, we have to keep going.”

Their pursuers were catching up to them and it was honestly a matter of time; they were severely outnumbered and their only hope was to make it to their ships and take off before they were overwhelmed.

That was what Poe thought, anyway, until he watched a man fall to blaster fire that definitely hadn’t come from either him or Muran, one man, then two, and there they were, Karé and Iolo, and he and Muran weren’t alone.

They had back-up after all.

The firefight was over in minutes and Poe clutched his bad shoulder while Muran came over to let Poe lean on him. “Iolo, man, have I ever told you that you are beautiful? ‘Cause you are, you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”

“So what does that make me, huh?” Karé asked. “Commander, I’m offended, don’t you appreciate me?”

“I appreciate you, babe, I appreciate you a lot.”

“We weren’t expecting help,” Muran said. “Poe’s hurt.”

“You guys missed your check-in,” Iolo explained. “Deso gave us leave to go after you. How bad, Commander?”

“Not bad. I’ll be okay, and I’m gonna kiss the major when we get back,” Poe promised.

“Not sure he’ll appreciate that, but you do you,” Karé said. “Come on; we weren’t sure what shape you guys would be in so we brought a freighter. This way.”

“Same landing site we had?”

“Approximately.”

They hurried as much as they were able, Poe slowing them down, Muran’s arm around his waist to support him. Iolo ran ahead to check they were clear while Karé guarded the rear. Poe was struck with a realization that this would work, them, Rapier Squadron. He trusted each of them to have his back when he needed the help and to do as he said when he gave orders.

He trusted them, and he cared about them, and he knew that they felt the same way about him.

The freighter was just around a rocky ridge from Poe and Muran’s X-wings, which apparently their captors never had discovered. Iolo said, “Poe’s in no condition to fly, so you two take the freighter, we’ll take your X-wings. Meet you back at base.”

“I’m fine, I can still fly,” Poe insisted.

“Yeah, into a rock wall, maybe,” Muran muttered, dragging Poe along with him into the back of the freighter.

Poe felt he should argue more but he couldn’t even work up the energy. He let Muran deposit him in the co-pilot’s seat, where he could assist if needed. He was unabashedly relieved to watch Aurelia fade below him as they took off, blasted dirtball of a planet.

Once they were safely in hyperspace, flying smoothly on auto-pilot, Muran quickly and efficiently tended to Poe’s blaster wound, his touch soft and gentle and maybe just a bit lingering, but Poe figured that was probably just his imagination. He let himself slump against Muran’s side once he had finished and told himself that was okay because he was injured and all.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Muran said quietly.

“Had to.” That was true. Honestly Poe hadn’t even thought about it; Muran was in danger and Poe had done the only thing he could do.

“You’re Rapier Leader, Poe. Commander Dameron.”

“And? Somehow that makes me more important than you? Because that’s shit.”

“I’m the one who should be taking hits for you.”

“Don’t you ever.” Poe reached out to clasp Muran’s wrist, not caring how inappropriate it was. “Don’t you fucking dare. Not ever.”

“So it’s okay for you to get hurt for me, but I can’t do the same for you? I can’t protect you?” Muran shook his head, an unusual flush of fury in his cheeks. “Bantha shit, Poe. You won’t stop me.”

“I can’t see you get hurt,” Poe said, hating how his voice cracked at the end. “I’m not worth that.”

“You’re worth it to me,” Muran said, and Poe wished he would look away.

“I’m not, I’m…” Poe swallowed and broke eye contact. “Kriff,” he said, and rubbed his hands over his face. Breaking up with Muran was supposed to have fixed everything. No pesky emotions, no favoritism, just Muran in his squad, like Karé, like Iolo. Poe would protect them, too, he would take a hit for them without question. He would try to prevent them from ever needing to do the same for him.

But if they did, it wouldn’t hurt as much as it would with Muran, and breaking up hadn’t fixed that at all.

-

The remainder of the journey back to Mirrin Prime passed largely in silence. They found some ration bars that seemed to taste at least five hundred times better than they normally did. Back at base, Poe was hurried to the infirmary to be seen to. As he let a med droid patch him up, BB-8 burst in, wailing at him in binary, half anxious questions and half beratement.

“Kriff, I’m fine, buddy, relax,” Poe protested, but BB-8 didn’t let up until finally one of the other med droids convinced the astromech that Poe had suffered no lasting damage.

“I’ll see you later, okay, Beebee? Promise.”

Reluctantly, BB-8 rolled out. Poe didn’t doubt that he would be hovering outside the infirmary until Poe left.

Once Poe was deemed okay, he went in for his mission debriefing, BB-8 trailing at his heels, passing Muran on his way in. Muran’s fingers brushed over Poe’s wrist as he went by and Poe ignored the way the simple touch made his heartbeat quicken. The briefing went fine; though the whole thing had edged into a disaster, Major Deso was still pleased with the intelligence Poe and Muran had discovered.

“Should help us take down the bastards,” he told Poe cheerfully. “Get some rest. You can have a few days off.”

Poe nodded his thanks and exited the office, walking without purpose until he realized he was outside Muran’s quarters.

Well. That just figured, didn’t it?

Honestly, though, Poe felt it was probably best that they talk. He couldn’t leave it like this, everything so jumbled, half his head and half his heart telling him that it didn’t even matter if they weren’t together; he felt more than he had thought he did. He needed to know what Muran thought.

He needed to know if Muran felt the same.

That was what Poe had intended on, anyway, when he sent BB-8 back to his quarters, when he knocked, when he stood there as Muran opened his door.

In actuality, Muran was waiting in his room in low-slung sweats without a shirt, his black hair damp as though he had just returned from the refresher. In actuality, Muran moved aside wordlessly to let Poe in, the door sliding closed behind him, and all Poe could think was how good he looked and how long it had been and how scared Poe had been for Muran on Aurelia and how kriffing tired he was of pretending he felt less than he did.

Maybe it had been serious after all and all it had taken was not having Muran to make Poe admit that to himself.

“You look better,” Muran said, but that wasn’t what Poe wanted, either. He wasn’t here to rehash the mission and he wasn’t here to think about how Muran could have died and how Poe would take that hit again, every time, without thinking. He was here to -

“Oh, fuck it,” he said, and leaned up, his hands sliding around the back of Muran’s head, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Poe,” Muran said against his mouth, “Poe,” but he wasn’t stopping; he was opening his mouth against Poe’s and nudging him back until Poe fell onto the bed. Muran climbed up after him, fingers fluttering over the bandage on Poe’s shoulder, and fuck it, they were doing this.

-

Poe woke up again with Muran’s hand in his hair, petting lightly, and it was seriously the most amazing feeling. Poe wanted to purr like a Loth-cat; he wanted to stay here and never leave this bed, where it was warm and safe, where he could wake up beside Muran.

But this was reality.

“You’re awake?” Muran said quietly, likely feeling the new tension in Poe’s body.

Reluctantly, Poe shifted until he could see Muran, Muran’s hand sliding away from him. “Yeah.”

“I don’t… I don’t think we should have done that.”

“Probably not.” Poe sat up, the sheets pooled around his hips. It felt different now, in the early morning light, and his shoulder ached.

Muran seemed to take that as an invitation to get going, crawling out of the bed entirely. “I won’t say anything. We can pretend it never happened. That’s what you want, right?”

“Muran,” Poe said, forehead creasing. He swung his legs out until his feet were pressed onto the floor, watching Muran hurriedly dress. “That isn’t what I want at all.”

Movements stuttering faintly, Muran kept his gaze firmly away from Poe as he finished dressing. “But it’s what has to happen. Commander Dameron.”

“Don’t call me that,” Poe said, and Muran finally looked at him.

“We agreed--”

“I know what we agreed.” Poe stood up, tugging the sheet free from the bed to hold around his waist because he frankly felt ridiculous, trying to have a serious conversation about their future while he was naked and he didn’t know where his pants were. “But maybe that was wrong.”

“We can’t be together, Poe, we agreed… This is important to you, and I’m not gonna stand in your way. I won’t get you in trouble and I won’t--”

“Muran,” Poe said, pressing his hand to Muran’s cheek. “Do you care about me?”

Muran’s lips parted faintly like he was horrified at the question. “Of course I do.”

“I mean, not like you care about Iolo, or Karé. Do you care about me more?”

After a short hesitation, Muran said, “Yes.”

“Okay, good, because I was worried maybe I was just reading this totally wrong. I care about you, too, and nothing’s changed since we broke up. I think if anything I just realized that I care more than I thought I did. When we were on Aurelia, I…” Poe swallowed. “I can’t lose you, Muran. I’m prepared to be entirely stupid about you and it doesn’t matter if we’re actually together or not. I feel the same regardless.”

“I can’t lose you, either,” Muran said, pressing his hand over Poe’s where it rested against his cheek before clasping it. “But I don’t know how we do this. Command won’t like it.”

“I don’t want to transfer you from Rapier Squadron, but Muran, I… I… I honestly care about you so much, and I want to make this work. Is that what you want? A transfer, so we can try this?”

“I don’t like the idea of not being able to have your back, but honestly, maybe I’m a selfish dick because I hate the idea of not having you more.”

It took Poe a moment to take that in and then he snorted a laugh. “Stars, seriously? That was the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

“Must’ve learned it from you.”

“Rude,” Poe said, but he couldn’t stop his smile. “I’ll talk to Major Deso. Maybe you can stay here, on Mirrin Prime, just… not as Rapier Four.”

Which Poe hated. It felt like breaking something up in order to fix what wasn’t broken, but he didn’t know what else to do. He thought they owed it to each other to find out where this might lead.

And pretending he didn’t care clearly hadn’t worked.

“We’ll figure it out,” Muran said, and Poe believed him.

-

“I see,” Major Deso said, at the conclusion of Poe’s explanation. He tapped his fingers on the desktop.

Poe tried not to fidget. He had been as straight-forward and inclusive as he could, figuring it was best to be honest. He hadn’t actually done anything wrong, and neither had Muran. Now they were trying to do what was best.

“Rapier Squadron has run incredibly smoothly,” Major Deso said. “Your last mission, while unexpectedly troublesome, was still ultimately successful. You work well together, the two of you.”

“I like to think so, yes.”

“And you were together prior to your new assignment. In a romantic sense, I mean.”

“Yes.”

“Well,” the major said. “I’ll send you the necessary documents. Command doesn’t like these conflicts of interest, you see.”

“Of course,” Poe said, feeling like a lump was settling in his stomach, though he hadn’t expected anything but this. It was Rapier Four or Muran, and Poe knew what choice he would make.

“Funny thing, though. Sometimes datawork gets… lost.”

“Major?”

“No one’s fault, of course. You did the right thing, bringing this to me. I’m sure your forms will be filled out impeccably. What happens after that, well. No one’s fault.”

Poe fought back his smile. “I see, Major. Of course. Thank you. I’ll get to those forms.”

“See that you do, Commander.”

-

Poe filled out the forms and transferred them back to Major Deso.

Muran stayed with Rapier Squadron.

-

 _[You seem much improved, Partner-Poe!]_ BB-8 chirped at Poe in the evening, a few days later.

“Improved how, Beebee?” Poe asked idly as he checked his hair in the mirror, waiting for Muran.

_[You are no longer so unhappy.]_

“I told you, I wasn’t unhappy, I--”

There was a knock. Poe pressed his hand to the controls, grinning widely when he was met with Muran. “Hey,” he said, giving Muran a quick kiss as he came in.

BB-8 zoomed out past Poe’s legs before he could close the door. _[I will leave you alone with Friend-Muran! To sleep!]_

Muran laughed and Poe flushed. “Thanks, buddy.” As the droid rolled off and Poe closed the door, he turned back to Muran. “He’s overly enthusiastic about our relationship. Sorry.”

“Nice to know I’m accepted by your droid, really.”

“He’s your biggest fan, honestly.”

“Then I must be doing something right.”

“A lot of somethings, actually.” Poe stroked his hand down Muran’s arm. “We don’t have to sleep, though.”

Muran made a show of raising his eyebrow. “But whatever else could we do?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Poe said, backing him up farther into the room. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”


End file.
